Fleeting Flashes
by Maria from Ravenclaw
Summary: Drabble collection. My entries for the "Musical Chairs Style Competition" on the HPFC forum, in which I got the 1st place. Pairings & characters: Narcissa/Scabior, Trelawney/Mrs. Lovegood, Petunia Dursley, Amy Benson/Dennis Bishop, Severus/Lily and Theodore Nott/Flora Carrow.
1. The Threatening Past

_AN: Round 1 - prompt: the song "Wicked Blood", by Sea Wolf  
_

* * *

The Threatening Past

"_We met in the east  
Poured in like a flood  
You're the whispering kind  
Dark sapphire blood  
You're a vision of veils  
All shimmery white  
Like a backdrop of sails  
All aglow from the light  
Of the wonder behind  
At a starry night_

_(...)_

_Your silken skin  
My fingers rough  
In the midnight dim  
We went home and touched  
Beneath the chandeliers  
And your Persian's dust"_

–"_Wicked Blood", Sea Wolf_

When Narcissa caught sight of that man at the Manor, her teeth chattered in fear, yet she forced her lips and jaw to stay unmoving. Not showing any signs of weakness whatsoever had become easy (the hard way), even though the fear he provoked in her was enormous. For a moment she entertained the foolish hope that would not remember her, but Narcissa Malfoy had never been an unremarkable woman.

_Mrs. Malfoy to-be was a seventh-year Hogwarts student with her wedding date picked. However, in the summer, she was still a teenager. _

_On a trip to the exotic East, a familiar face appeared amid the aromatic spices, grinning hungrily at her from behind the heat haze. Of course she had been reluctant at first, but her determination began to waver when he became an artful snake-charmer._

_He had the ways of a cheap Casanova, paying her desperately elaborate compliments that struggled to fit in his dirty lips, and then ended up ever so smooth. She replied with a sort of sneering grin or a condescending laugh – and he noticed, he was smart. Types like him didn't care, though, as long as it got them what they wanted._

_When they were back to England, he had the daring to turn up at her house in the middle of night; breaking into her bedroom like a thief, craving to steal her dignity. She tried to hold on to it, but it was no use fighting the coarse allure of the revoltingly seductive man._

_After that, he got bored and moved on to his next adventure. Although they never met again, the memories always haunted her._

And now he brought prisoners into her house, calling her "ma'am" every few sentences as if to mock her fear.

In a way, that man was a threat more worrying than the Dark Lord himself. United, Narcissa knew her family would be – _had_ to be – strong enough to resist until the end of the War; if that filthy, insolent man decided it would be fun to tear them apart, they would undoubtedly crumble. And nothing made her angrier than knowing she had been the one to give him that kind of power.

* * *

_AN: Phew, it's over! Narcissa can go back to being the perfect wife and mother in my head (and yes, that was Scabior)  
Don't forget to review :)_


	2. The Rise and Fall of Cyan

_AN: Round 2 - prompt: a femmeslash pairing_

* * *

The Rise and Fall of Cyan

They were the outcasts, the weirdos, the crazy ones. One with her strange beliefs, her mad inventions and her daisy chains; the other with her failed predictions, her theatrical ways and her many glittering necklaces. But they were together.

Both pairs of eyes were so easy to get lost in: one a calming sea of periwinkle blue; the other a mysterious green sheltered by a transparent shields, disguisedly begging to be made vulnerable. And sure enough, the one with the blue had the sensibility to decipher that message, so that Green gratefully gave in to Blue.

The Raveclaw Tower wasn't enough: there Green still needed her shields. So Blue showed Green her hideout, whose traditional rainbow of colourful experimental jets of light from then on shared the space amicably with the glow of the crystal ball and the soothing perfume of the tea leaves.

Many nights Green allowed Blue to gently explore her, unveiling bits of her soul always hidden from others and letting Blue cast its angelical light upon all of Green's secrets. Blue, in retribution, shared her creations with Green and marvelled at Green's own discoveries - the kind of sincere admiration that neither could find elsewhere.

Thus, blessed by a myriad of sparkling colours, Blue and Green became cyan. They complemented each other for three years - three, the number of balance, the one that overcomes duality and establishes harmony. Three, followed by four, the one so easily divided.

On the fourth year of their union, dark clouds began to obscure its joyous lights. Crystal ball and tea leaves and planets and cards all pointed towards the ruin of cyan, but showed immense happiness for Blue once the ties had been severed.

Green was devastated, and for days whimpered into Blue's shoulder, unable to give her the news. At long last, Green left Blue refusing to give explanations, and grieved at the loss, but dared not regret setting free one with a life line so short.

* * *

_AN: That was Sybill Trelawney/Pandora Lovegood, in case it wasn't clear. When I wrote this, I didn't know Luna's mum's name had been revealed, so I avoided naming anyone._

_Don't forget to review! :)_


	3. Petunia and the Night

_AN: Round 3 - prompt: exactly 234 words_

* * *

Petunia and the Night

Insomnia is a medical condition, which means it is not normal, which means it is not welcome, especially in a household so very proper and dignified. And yet, the pills lay untouched in her locked drawer.

They don't know why she cleans before bed, they think it's just one more way in which she is a dedicated housewife - the perfect disguise for the abnormality. And she often doesn't know why she cleans before bed, she thinks it is a way of being useful if she's going to stay up anyway.

"A clean home is a respectable home," she tells herself (not out loud, naturally).

While the others sleep, she meticulously scrubs, mops, shines, sweeps, waxes, polishes, and gazes proudly at the immaculate white she leaves in her wake.

Sometimes, her hand stops mid-motion, and then it is only Petunia and the night. The night then whispers to her the real reason why she cleans, whispers that it's futile and that all she will ever manage is to keep the dirt under the rug.

Petunia whispers back, "a clean home is a respectable home", and hisses, mutters, speaks, yells! Then stops in fear. And the night convinces her that the dirt is forever encrusted in her life, so she goes to bed.

She thinks that is why she goes to bed. But the night knows she has an ounce of fondness for the dirt.

* * *

_AN: Don't forget to review! :)_


	4. Trembling Hands

_AN: Round 4 - prompt: a Riddle era het pairing_

* * *

Trembling Hands

That place had never been very cheery, but after living there for eleven years, you got used to the gloom. The problem was when fear joined gloom. Then it became unbearable.

For years the two of them were plagued by nightmares, even when they were awake and, enslaved by such great terror, dared not share their burden with anyone. Thus, they had only each other to turn to.

And they did. They knew there was no hope of recovery, but together, they could survive a bit longer - which they kept telling themselves was desirable, even after what had happened.

By day, they stuck together, holding each other's trembling hands; when her hands trembled too much, he took her silverware in his own, but most times neither would eat at all: most times, the other boy was around.

By night, there was absolutely no hope, for neither dared step out into the hallway and sneak into the other's room, fearing to be swallowed by darkness, fearing darkness would take them to... That place.

And so they lasted until seventeen, clinging onto to each other with the one trembling hand and clinging onto life with the other. When their hands trembled too much, it was the other that gave in. Some say the one still trembled underground, under the headstone that said "Amy Benson and Dennis Bishop".

* * *

_AN: Don't forget to review! :)_


	5. Bout of Boldness

_AN: Round 5 - prompt: a non-canon pairing._

* * *

Bout of Boldness

It had started during summer, away from the tension that made the Hogwarts air so much thicker than necessary. Perhaps that's why it happened so abruptly and intensely: she had been seeing him under a different light for months, but "he's my best friend..." and "argh, those House mates of his!" and "What would Potter do?".

Now, that bright blanket of sunlight took it all away at once, and those worries were a mere soap bubble that had just popped.

For the first time in her life, she didn't listen to a word he was saying; she was noticing how nice he looked under the sun, how much healthier than at school... And she was also gathering courage to put the hardly planned plan in action.

He went on and on, like he always did, seemingly talking to himself, but she knew he was grateful she was there to listen. There would be no way around it: she would have to use the reckless bout of boldness every Gryffindor had up their sleeve.

It happened in a millisecond; when she realised what she had done it was already over.

He looked so shocked, white, wide-eyed and open-mouthed that she nearly regretted it, but soon an unsure smile slowly appeared on his lips. She, on the other hand, beamed, overshadowing the sun with her twinkling green eyes, like she always did.

Only half-accustomed to the idea, but loving it already, both leaned in for another kiss, hardly able to stop smiling those two broad smiles that lasted all summer.

* * *

_AN: That was Snily, yeah. Don't forget to review! :)_


	6. The Beauty in the Belljar

_AN: Round 6 – word count over 1k  
Word count: 1056_

* * *

The Beauty in the Belljar

Theodore Nott had never really cared much about the Mudbloods that plagued the Hogwarts grounds. Of course, he was not _fond_ of them, but he did not think they deserved all the special attention that people like Draco Malfoy gave them – after all, what threat could a Mudblood pose?

Unfortunately, that question was given a rather infuriating answer in his first week of lessons at the wizarding school, an answer that went by the name of Hermione Jean Granger. The filthy girl mastered every charm in the first few attempts, could brew potions almost effortlessly while other cauldrons exploded and knew the properties of all the magical herbs and plants they studied.

She was a good witch; as much as he wanted to, there was no denying that. However, Theodore found it extremely foolish of the teachers to be so starstruck for what was simply one of their pupils. It was true that most magic students there showed a great deal of inaptitude and disinterest, a mixture that was sure to let the masters disappointed, but Granger was not the only exception.

It was understandable that the bushy-haired, buck-toothed girl who had a seizure every time she wanted to answer a question would not go unnoticed, but the professors certainly gave her a helping hand: "I'm sure you know the answer, Miss Granger", "Miss Granger, could tell us this?", "Miss Granger, could you tell us that?" – it was as if she were the only young witch in that school.

But she was not the only witch in that school, for there were about one hundred and fifty of those; she was not the only _good_ witch in that school, for many Slytherins and Ravenclaws had something other than dragon dung inside their skulls, and even one or other Gryffindor or Hufflepuff had a functioning brain; and much less was she the _best _witch in that school, for Flora Carrow occupied such a prestigious position.

In his first year, Theodore had loathed Granger because she overshadowed _him_, but he soon concluded that he would rather stay away from the spotlight - let Potter and his little friends play celebrity. In his second year, the brightest girl he had ever seen walked firmly to that battered wooden stool at the front of the Great Hall and was Sorted into Slytherin House, which made the picture change.

Her Charms were not breath-taking, it was true – that ability resided in Hestia Carrow, Flora's twin sister – but she was splendid at everything else. Rumour had it that after many failed attempts, she stayed persistent and turned her match into a needle; that she kept her head near her parchment, but stayed awake at Binns's class; that Sprout's hideous plants were expertly handled by her, as if she had potted Mandrakes her whole life; that her potions always made Snape smirk and award his own House a few points.

Obviously, the other members of the faculty and the Headmaster would never acknowledge Flora's talent, as she was an untrustworthy lowly Slytherin snake, and even though they all knew how the twins' mother had died and how their family was split, they certainly assumed that it was not wise to encourage a Death Eater to-be to sharpen her skills.

Theodore was perfectly aware of that, but it simply was not right that Flora blossomed in the shadows while a Mudblood whose idea of intelligence was being able to memorise every single word in a textbook was adored by all.

Some time later, matters got even worse, because Theodore discovered Flora was even better. As she felt that Hogwarts lessons were not stimulating enough for her, she began spending more and more time in the library, often in Theodore's vicinity. When he noticed she seemed too excited in her research to be doing any sort of schoolwork, he began taking furtive glances over her shoulder, trying to see the book open on the desktop before her.

The books she read often showed pictures and diagrams of flowers, and occasionally she also read about Healing. Intrigued by such a combination of interests, Theodore decided it was worth the effort to socialise with Flora Carrow.

She was less reserved and secretive than he had expected, although that might have been only because she had been observing him as well, and judged him worthy of her well-guarded friendliness. Thus, she told him everything about what her mother did before she died and how she had taken the late witch's research into her own hands. The subject fascinated him immensely, and after listening to Flora's tale, he wanted to hear of her progress as often as she would tell him of it.

Theodore also found that as his interest in Flora's work grew, so did the allure he saw in the girl, and his hatred for Granger started to wane. He was actually pleased that it was not Flora receiving all that attention, and unable to pinpoint why that was, he took Flora's reasons as his own: most people at Hogwarts were inutile fools, and her ambitions were much greater than to be recognised by a bunch of schoolchildren and ignorant teachers.

It was not long before that explanation, despite being perfectly logical and truthful, ceased to satisfy Theodore. He was far from pleased to hear that Slughorn had her in his little club. So Theodore figured he wanted Flora away from the spotlight because he wanted no hungry, stealing eyes on her; he wanted her to be _his_. Not "his" in the way teenagers usually mean it, not a tamed animal in his bed, but a sophisticated beauty kept under his belljar, seen by all, and owned by him alone. In short, it was most certainly not that _fancied_ her, for she was no girl to be _fancied. _Flora Carrow was a girl to be admired, worshipped even, and Theodore would gladly do that.

He could tell that she returned the feeling, as at some point, in addition to narrating her own intellectual adventures, she asked him about his achievements.

And so it was for the rest of the two Slytherins' schooling: they often met at the library, an average of seven silent meetings to each one in which they talked, and a constant half-veiled mutual esteem always hung in the air around them.

* * *

_AN: I was vague about Flora's past and her studies because I want to explore that in a multi-chapter I'm planning. Let this serve as a sneak peek into my version of that character.  
Don't forget to review!_


	7. Separate Ways

_AN: Final round - prompt: any pairing, romance, over 300 words  
Word count: 339_

* * *

Separate Ways

Whenever Lily kissed him, she kissed to heal. It was maybe a foolish hope, maybe too optimistic, but time was running out and darkness was approaching faster than ever. She had to try, to put all her energy into sucking the worst out of him, showing him that Light was welcoming and warm as her kisses.

But she also knew Severus kissed to impress, to try and convince her that Dark was fascinating and entrancing, like his kisses.

It is needless to say she firmly stood her ground, but it also goes unsaid that so did he. They both clung on to each other in painfully tight hugs that nearly crushed their airways, but neither of them minded. They knew it was their last chance to be together, they knew they would soon part ways and it soon would end.

Soon, they would be turned from lovers to enemies, fighting on opposite sides, fighting _against_ the one they so loved and cherished. Maybe that meant they were selfish, maybe that meant they were stubborn, but it certainly did not mean their love was not the purest and most sincere.

Their anguish was full of what ifs, full of wishful thinking, and full of lying to themselves. It was so heart-wrenching they knew soon it would really crush their heart, leaving them with nothing to feel. Or perhaps they even _hoped, _dreading whatever horrors would take charge of their hearts if – oh, they had to admit it, when – they started fighting.

Their last night at Hogwarts was the last one they spent together. Better to end it now, now when everything else they had known and cherished for seven years was ending too. Some would think of it as a new beginning, but to them it was the end.

And it was a grand finale, indeed, hiding in the Room of Requirement, giving their love all they still had, and hoping the memory of such a night would be enough to fill the void – which they knew it would not.

* * *

_AN: That was the piece that got me the last chair and the first place! Thanks to Lamia of the Dark for the wonderful competition she created.  
Don't forget to review! :)_


End file.
